An Everlasting Mark
by hopeintheproles
Summary: When it happened nobody ever saw it coming. Nobody guessed that something like that would ever happen, and nobody believed it when it actually did. LaylaWarren twoshot. Complete
1. Chapter 1

When it happened nobody ever saw it coming. Nobody guessed that something like that would ever happen, and nobody believed it when it actually did.

We all stopped believing it happened, if only for a second. When reality sinks in it's like being punched in the stomach. You're slightly winded and disoriented. You can't find your footing, and you may stumble. You reach out to grab something only to fling it away from your grasp when you can stand up again.

We couldn't believe the randomness of it all. How someone like that who was barely in our lives be affected in a way that nobody had even thought was possible. But it hurt us to know that it hurt him.

And he hurt. Hurt the most he had ever felt in his life. He couldn't believe the bad luck of it all, why things, bad things, always had to happen to him. We tried to assure him that bad things didn't always happen to him, and that we were here for him. But he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't, and he didn't want to either. He felt that the world conspired against him and only him.

It came as a shock to all of us when Warren's mother died in a car crash.

But it didn't shock anyone more than Warren.

I remember it vividly, we were all at Will's house, studying and hanging around and just enjoying our time as teenagers. Our majority of the group consisted of Zach, Ethan, Magenta, Will, Warren, and I. But that night it was just me, Warren, and Will. I was doing the last of my homework while Will and Warren talked about anything; cars, clothes, teachers, students, girls, I couldn't help but roll my eyes when they talked about the girls. We were close, all of us, but some force of nature felt that Warren needed a reason to leave us all behind. Even though, we wouldn't let him do that.

"Mr. Boy is a great teacher Warren, you're not allowed to say bad things about him because you've never had him. You don't get to judge." Will said while shoving popcorn into his mouth.

"Yeah, but it doesn't take a student of his to know that Mr. Boy is slightly off his rocker, Will." Warren counterargued while frogging Will on the arm.

After that I remember they stopped talking, I didn't know what they were doing but I just remember silence. And how it didn't belong, and how it felt wrong. When I looked up to see what was going on, Will and Warren were both staring at Steve and Josie. Josie looked about near tears, and Steve's face was crestfallen. The pain in their eyes were not for them, but for him, for Warren.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?" Will asked, becoming even more anxious and nervous as each second passed.

"Warren" Will's mother started "Something has happened, and it's, it's about."

Josie couldn't bring herself to say it, she went inside to the kitchen, the grief she felt for the boy was overwhelming and she knew that he didn't want to see that.

Warren looked nervous, he had had these kind of speeches before, they were never good, and they always meant heartbreak. And breaking off from people. He stood up slowly

"What happened?" His voice was deep with curiosity and wariness.

"Warren your mother. She died in a car accident." Steve said, looking down to the ground before turning around to also head to the kitchen, looking for his wife, so they could grieve in silence for the boy. Who might have been a man now.

I remember taking deep, painful breaths to try not to cry. I looked to Warren who was slumped over, hands on his knees staring at the ground. He looked like he was about to fall in his daze that he was currently in. So I put one arm around his shoulder and one on his arm and put both of us on the couch. I looked to Will who had the same amount of grief in his eyes. He looked at me and we shared the same grief for Warren.

When his arms started heating up, I knew to take my hands away from him. And as soon as I did, he stood up abruptly and opened the door to the front house and slammed it on his way out. I remember bursting into tears as soon as he left. And I remember Will coming over to me and hugging me tightly. And we both held on to each other as tightly as we could, fearing what Warren would do, what he would try to do.

"He's gonna try to leave us all behind Will." I said from where I was resting on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Layla, we won't let him, no matter what he does, he needs to know we'll always be there for him."

And all I could do was nod.

The next day when I got off the bus I looked around for Warren. He was sitting on the ledge, reading a book, clutching it more like it. His eyes held anger, not pain. I don't think he knew how to grieve properly, all he knew how to deal with things was anger.

I walked up cautiously and slowly to him, I sat next to him and said "Hey, watcha reading?"

What he did then, did not shock me, but didn't upset me any less "If you know what's best for you hippie, stay away."

His voice was low, menacingly low. I tried to touch his shoulder but I recoiled instantly at how hot it was. Scalding, really. My palm resembled a bad sunburn. Except on my pointer finger, the tip was burned pretty badly. It hurt, but not as bad as Warren was hurting.

I walked over to Will who had witnessed the scene and gave him a sad smile

"We'll keep trying, one day, maybe not so soon, but one day he'll come back to us." I reasoned, trying to stay positive. Will nodded and said "I hope so, we need him, almost as much as he needs us."

I nodded also and Will said "Let me see your hand."

I gave him my right hand and he cradled it "Ouch, Layla, you should see the nurse."

I took it back and said "No point, the burn will heal on it's own."

And that's all we said as we made our way to class.

When lunchtime came around Warren sat alone, when he previously used to sit with us. He wasn't reading this time, just staring hard at his plate. Not really eating it, just working around it.

Will sat across from me as the others crowded around us.

"He flamed anybody that tried to even walk his way in classes, let alone touch him." Will said.

"Maybe you should go talk to him." I reasoned "Maybe what he needs right now is time with a man friend, not a girl who sympathizes for him."

Will nodded and made his way over. I watched closely as Will sat down across from Warren and exchanged a few words. Warren didn't say anything, just pushed around his food and listened. And when Will was done talking, he waited for Warren to say anything, and when he didn't Will left.

He sat down, and I asked "What did you say to him?"

"I told him that we weren't going anywhere, and that we would always be available to him because we're his friends. I told him that he shouldn't have to go through this alone, and when he was willing, so would we."

I smiled lightly for the first time today "That's making an improvement right?"

He smiled too "I think so, Layla, I think so."

"It's not going to be easy though" I said "You know how stubborn he is, it took him two months for him to actually admit we were his friends."

"He's allowed time though." Will said, while pouring ketchup on his fries "He needs time, and that's what we're going to give him."

"Time." I agreed. It was the only thing we could give him. We couldn't make his mother come back to life, or his father come out of jail. He was legally an adult at 17 and a senior with a place of his own above the Paper Lantern.

He had nobody except us, and there was no way in hell we were letting him go.

For the rest of the week we didn't bother him. We didn't approach him at lunch , or outside of school on the mornings, or at the Paper Lantern. We gave him space, and some time, because we knew more about Warren than he thought. We knew he didn't like people, and we knew he liked space to think things out. He would only ask for help on his own, we could provide the help, we just had to wait until he would seek it out.

But on that Friday, I couldn't help but think how lonely Warren must have felt. The weekends are a terrible time to be alone, there's no escape. So I told Will I was going over and he said "Be careful."

I made my way over and sat in front of him like Will had done on Monday. And I just watched him, he didn't look up from the book he was reading. So I pulled out a book of my own from my backpack. I didn't want to be the first one to talk because I didn't want the moment to be ruined. He was letting me sit here, letting me keep him company. And so for the of the lunch period I just sat with him, reading a book, the sound of our turning pages the only white noise provided. And when the bell did ring, he looked up to me and quickly put his book away and left.

"It's an improvement." I said, as I felt Will's presence behind me.

"Yeah." Was the only thing Will could say as he put his arm around me comfortingly, escorting me to my sidekick class.

The rest of the day was a blur. My classes seemed to pass in a hazy fog, I could see the people moving and their lips were making words. But my brain was in a daze and I just couldn't wait to get our of their.

When the bell signaled the weekend, I walked down the halls to my locker and spotted Warren walking. I looked at him as he passed, but he didn't make eye contact, I could feel my frown as I opened my locker. Will walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm getting so discouraged Will. What if we don't get him back?"

Will sighed and opened up his own locker "It hasn't even been a week Layla."

"He needs time. A lot of it. Most people don't even get over their parents death before they die."

"Yeah." I agreed. "I just wish there was more we could do."

Will closed his locker and looked to me "Unfortunately I don't think that there's anything else we can do. I think he's gotta do it for himself first."

I smiled lightly and said "Will, a man of words."

He lightly told me to shutup before smiling and walking with me out to the bus.

We stepped on the bus and took seats near the back. Even though we were allowed to fly, well I was allowed to fly with Will, a lot of our friends took the bus, and it really didn't make a difference to us.

It's October, and we are currently in our Junior year. Nothing has changed. My hair is longer. Will is taller. Nothing except Warren of course.

On Sunday evening I was trying to do my homework. I normally do it on Friday but I was too exhausted to function and on Saturday I spent the whole day with Will. But even now, I couldn't get my head around studying. It was the one week anniversary of Warrens mothers death. I remember him one time saying that his mother cooked his meals because he didn't like the food at the Paper Lantern.

Walking down into the kitchen I made him dinner. I know it's a pathetic attempt, but in all honestly. I was really worried about Warren. For all we knew he was falling apart. Skipping meals, not doing homework. I just hated to see him struggle when I had opportunities to make things just a little better. A small improvement is better than none at all.

Walking up the stairs to Warrens apartment with the courage I never had before was the most terrifying thing of my life. Even more terrifying than homecoming, at least then I knew Warren wouldn't fry me, now it was up to fate.

I knocked on the door, let out a whimper, and waited. Warren opened the door with the most shocked look of his life, which quickly turned to anger

"What are you doing here? Don't you bother me enough at school?"

I ignored the stinging bite of his last comment and put on a smile

"Hey, I remembered when you told me you hated the Paper Lanterns cooking so I made you dinner." I held up the plastic bag for emphasis.

"I don't want your cooking and I don't want your help." He turned back into the apartment but I quickly grabbed his hand. I turned him around and he grabbed my wrist and yanked it off of his with such vigor I bit my lip to stop from yelling out at the pain.

"Umm, I'm gonna leave this on the front step. I'll see you in school."

I turned around quickly so he wouldn't see the tears falling from my eyes, but I can't help but think that maybe he did see them. I walked down the steps with tears running down my face, partly because of the pain in my wrist, and partly because of what I was doing wasn't helping.

I couldn't help but reprimand myself as I walked home. What did I think he was going to do? Invite me in and talk about his problems which he has never done with me or anyone before. Maybe I was being too positive about this all. I decided that night to leave him alone for a little while before going back. At least until my wrist healed.

When I got home I wrapped my wrist in an ace bandage, tight enough to keep it from moving around, but not too tight so that it cut off my circulation. It was swelling now, and a bruise with finger marks would probably show up tomorrow, but not if I kept the bandage on.

The next day at school Will asked about my wrist

"I hurt it doing some chores for my mom."

And at the time he believed it.

I left Warren alone for a month. Because that's how long it took for my wrist to heal. And that was how long Will was making attempts with Warren, who seemed to have better luck than I could ever have.

He was talking to Will now, when he went over to his table at lunch. A couple of time he asked me if I wanted to come but I declined every time. Warren didn't need me anymore. And at the time I tried to convince myself I didn't need him, but I did. I always had.

In the mornings Will would walk over to Warren and say hi. It was amazing at the healing power Will possessed. He had managed to get Warren talking to him again. And every once in a while he would smile at something either Will or himself said.

I couldn't help but feel sadder everyday, knowing that I couldn't do anything. That he didn't want me around, and that I meant nothing to him.

It had been 3 months since his mothers death. Warren and Will were best friends again, Warren had even gone over to his house a couple of times.

"He's been really cool, the progress he's made is amazing." Will is telling me. I'm nodding every once in a while, marking his progress in my mind as well.

"Has he talked about his mothers death with you?"

Will shook his head "No, I think that will take more time. Lots of time. He's healing right now, he's getting himself together. And he's acting more and more like his old self. We just have to be patient."

In my mind I tell him that he has to be patient. In truth, I haven't talked to Warren since that night. I haven't made eye contact, and I haven't tried to make him feel loved.

"But" Will says "He did tell me that his mothers funeral is this weekend. This Sunday. He asked me to go so I'm going."

"That's really good." I say, trying to keep the pain out of his voice "You play the supportive friend type, and Warren might get some closure."

I turn to my locker and pull out some books

"Hey Layla have you tried talking to hi- "

"I've really got to go Will, I forgot to do a couple of questions, I'll see you later."

I rush off before he can call me back.

Making my way to the other end of the school, I realize the halls are empty and that I'm late. I walk faster and faster until two people step out in front of me.

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?"

Damien.

"It's appears it's Little Miss FlowerChild."

Roy.

These two were like the replacements of Speed and Lash, except for the whole villain thing. They played heroes in Save the Citizen, but came out bullies after that.

Damien had the power of the wind. Roy's power was strength. Like Will, except Will was stronger.

I tried to move around but Roy put his hand on the locker, blocking my path.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked

"To class." I said, I didn't really know what to do because I had never really been in one of these situations. Until now, at least.

"We haven't bullied anyone all day, as you can imagine we're kind of craving some kind of mischievous fun on lower classmen." He was in Warrens grade. God I couldn't wait to be a senior.

"That's nice." I tried, and moved around them again. But for them, this would not do. Roy pushed me back roughly into the lockers and I let out a small yell. His hand quickly covered mine.

"Now, now, now." Roy cooed. "That will not do."

"Layla, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" Damien asked, inching towards me until he was right in my face. My eyes went wide and screamed against Roy's hand as best as I could, but it ended up being muffled anyway. I squirmed and I fought as best as I could but it was no use, Roy pressed his large body up against mine, preventing me from moving any further. I started crying, large, hot, tears, oozed down my face and onto his hand that still covered my mouth. My mouth let out large sobs.

"Layla, calm down sweetie honey." He said in a falsely sweet voice. Wiping my tears from my face, which made me turn my head and cry even more. My muffled sobs, filling the surrounding area.

Damien's hand went to the sides of my head and he said threateningly "Shut up you little bitch!" He banged my head against the locker, causing me to cry even more, if it was possible. Every time he hit my head against the locker I felt myself letting out squeals of pain, hoping, praying anyone would come along. I felt his hand sneak its way up and squeeze my breast. My sobs were as loud as I could make them with Roy's hand still covering my mouth. And each time he hit my head against the locker, telling me to shut up, I lost a little bit of consciousness.

Damien was about to hit my head again when both of them all of sudden screamed out in pain and let me go. I crumpled to the floor and fell against the cold tile. My lips were dry and my face was dry and itchy. There were flames, lots of them, as the two boys managed to escape and run as fast as they could down the halls.

Warren.

He got down on his knees and cradled me.

"Layla, Layla come on wake up."

I opened my eyes slightly before falling into unconsciousness.

He picked me up and took me to the nurse quickly. And while waiting in the nurses office as I was checked in one of the stalls, he couldn't help but feel concern and worry like he had never felt before. He held his head in his hands.

Soon, Principal Powers and Will came in and sat down next to them.

"Warren, man, what's going on?"

"It's Layla." He said.

The nurse came out and they all proceeded to the Principals office.

Powers started "Nurse, why don't you tell us what's the outcome of Layla's condition."

Will and Warren sat anxiously in their seats, wanting to know what was wrong with me.

"She was unconscious when she arrived here and she still is. The back of her head is bruised and bleeding. And" She said the last part quietly, and sadly "Parts of her clothes were ripped, it appears to me like rape."

At the same time, Warren and Will both had rage flowing through their eyes. Will asked quietly "Who was it?" But his voice was anything but calm, silent rage was embedded and threaded into the words.

"Roy Delane and Damien Grunt." Warren said.

Principal Powers looked angry as well "Don't worry Mr. Peace and Mr. Stronghold. I can assure you that a maximum punishment will be supplied for this. You may visit Layla at the end of the day, she'll need someone to take her home."

"We both will." Will replied. And Warren nodded.

At the end of the day the two boys went to see me. The nurse told them that I was conscious, but dizzy, and to not speak loudly or upset me.

They went in the stall where I was resting my on head on the pillow. Will closed the door and I opened my eyes. Warren went over to help me up but I held my hand out to stop him. It was awkward, and I for some reason I felt like dying. Something like that, when someone tries to rape you, it stays in your mind forever. And when someone tries to go near you, all of a sudden, every person you've ever trusted or relied on, has the possibility of hurting you.

"I want to go home." Was all I said that day. The nurse had tried to contact my mom but she was on a mission, and I hadn't told them but my father split. He left us a little while ago, it still hurts though, when someone who told you that he'd be there for you forever leaves, it's a lasting impression. But I like to think I'm over it.

They took me home and I said goodbye to them on my front step, telling them I'd see them tomorrow. And before that they could say anything I stepped inside. I needed to be alone, I wanted to be alone.

So I went upstairs, had a bath, pulled on my most comfortable PJ's, crawled into bed, and cried. Cried until I fell asleep, which was a few minutes before 7.

I cried for 3 and a half hours straight. I cried for everything sad I could think of. What happened that afternoon, my father, Warren, my disappointment, the stress, my failure. It fueled me until I had nothing left to cry about except that lingering sadness. So I cried about that. And then I fell asleep.

And when I woke up, that lingering sadness was still there, but not as much so that I could cry about it. My body felt tired, my eyes droopy, it hurt to breathe. Everything hurt.

I managed to get through the day, Damien and Roy had a special type of radar put on them that wouldn't allow them 50 feet of where I stood. At lunch time I wasn't hungry, and it shocked me when Will asked me to sit with him and Warren.

"I'm not really on the best terms with Warren right now Will."

He gave me a funny look before taking my hand and saying "It'll be alright, he wants you there."

I sat next to Warren and across from Will. I hadn't sat here since the time we read together. My heart still wept for Warren because of his mother. But not so much anymore.

After lunch went by and I didn't say anything Warren asked me to meet him at the Paper Lantern that night at 8. I nodded slightly, in shock of it and proceeded to my next class.

That night came all too soon for me. I stayed in the clothes I had and went to the restaurant at 8. He found me and sat across, his hair still in a slightly messy bun, and his work clothes still on.

"Don't they need you to work?" I asked.

"I asked them for a break ahead of time." He responded. I nodded and exhaled slightly.

"I'm sorry Layla." He said.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

"Warren you don't have anything to apologize about." I said back to him.

"Yes I do, Layla. Just because my mother, died" He faltered slightly on that word, it still tasted new to him. "Doesn't mean I'm allowed to hurt you, I saw the bandage Layla, and I saw you cry. I know I did it, and I can't tell you how sorry I am."

I looked down at the hands in my lap "You don't have to tell me you're sorry. You're going through a hard time, we all make mistakes."

He sighed and drummed his fingers on the table "That's not the point. Even though you could hardly tell. You are my friend, and I do care about you. For some reason it was just harder to become friends with you again than it was with Will."

I swallowed hard and cautiously placed my hand over Warrens. He did not pull away or flame, he entwined our fingers and placed his others on top of that.

I smiled for the first time in a long time and looked down at our joined hands, relishing in the sight of it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there faster yesterday." His voice was low.

My smiled faltered and I felt the tears well up "The fact that you were even near there was a miracle Warren, if you hadn't then I don't know" I stopped there because the tears were choking me up, and I felt like a fool crying in front of him.

"I'm just glad that you were there, I think you might have saved my life."

He looked at me then, and looked back down to our hands that were still joined. We stayed in relative silence while I pulled myself back together.

When Warren had to go back to work I gave him a hug which he returned. I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering how it felt to be in his arms, how his naturally warm hands felt on my back. I savored it all, and when he pulled out he hesitated slightly and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

He asked me to come to her funeral.

I accepted.

A/N: This will be a two part story. I'm quite proud of this one, and I don't know exactly when the other will be up.

RandR if you please


	2. Chapter 2

At the funeral I didn't stand by Warren and I didn't hold his hand. I was on the opposite side of the casket and Will stood next to Warren. I hated the look of black on my friends. I hated how it brought out the bags under Warrens eyes. I hated the contrast of my pasty skin to his tan complexion.

We are all polar opposites. But like opposites we all have a charge. And maybe our charge wasn't supplied by friendliness or desperation, but need and compassion. But that doesn't matter right now. Now Warren's mother is being lowered into the ground, forever gone, forever.

He doesn't look mad, he looks lost. For once in his life maybe anger doesn't fill him and give him the satisfaction it used to. His mother was delicate, and breakable.

He looked to me from across and I did not try to smile.

I couldn't. I couldn't lie. And Warren didn't need that.

We all left. The grass was damp with water that darkened my already black shoes. Moisture hung in the air, you could almost see it. I walked away and looked back only once. Warren stood before his mother's grave, just standing. For how long he stood there I don't know. I can only assume he was getting the closure he needed. The closure he would never be fully granted.

His father had been taken away from him and so had his mother. I felt it cruel that he had to be alone in his first year of adulthood. But maybe it wasn't his first year. With people like Warren you can't help but wonder if they were born ready to suffer, to mourn, to feel.

The difference that I believe is between Warren and regular people is that Warren never goes numb. When people deal with loss all too fast at a young age, they learn to not feel because it's better than crying all the time. But Warren never cries, and he never goes numb. He just feels, feels it all more than I could ever feel it. More than I could ever take.

He's strong. But I often wonder just how far that strength will take him, just how tough it will allow him to be. It causes some damage when you allow yourself to feel, feel in the wrong way that is.

A small reception was held at the Paper Lantern. Will, Warren, and I sat at a table reserved for us. But the dreariness of it all. There was so much reality in one room it took every ounce of me not to cry. I didn't get to cry before Warren did. For some unknown reason I made that a rule in my head.

I remember Will taking my hand under the table. I think he sensed I was near a breakdown or something. I appreciated the comfort I could get.

Nobody ate, and nobody talked. Warren looked at everything except us. He didn't want to see the pity in our eyes, the pity we were both trying to keep out. I remember looking for that small woman folding napkins, and I felt a pang in my heart every time I didn't see her.

I remember that Warren finally had enough and left wordlessly and went up to his apartment. I felt so sad for him.

Will and I stood up. With one slight head jerk to Warren's direction and a tight hug, he was gone.

I walked up the steps with caution, remembering the last time I had done that. I didn't bother knocking and just walked into his apartment. I locked the door behind me and went in search of Warren.

I found him in his room, sitting on his bed. His room had a comfortable feel to it, serene. I could see why he would come here after his mother's funeral. But the house felt so empty with just Warren alone in it. It was like it was never designed that way, he was never supposed to be alone.

I approached his open door.

"Knock, knock." I said.

He looked to me and looked away. I took this as an invitation to sit next to him.

We sat in silence for a long time. He was mentally preparing himself and I wasn't about to force him into anything he wasn't ready for. He could take forever with me and I wouldn't mind. I knew in my mind that he deserved it, and that he needed it.

He needed someone to sit alone in silence with while he came to grips with what was going on.

I still wasn't sure if I fit the profile or not. I was willing, but you could never be sure if you were the one that Warren needed.

But soon he started talking a little bit.

"You know what gets me the most about her death?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to say anything unless he was talking to himself more than me. I liked to think that just my presence brought some comfort to him. Like, maybe he just needs another soul with him, maybe he wasn't ready to be alone yet.

I hoped he would never be.

"It's the fact that she was in enough danger as it was, being married to a super-villain. She was supposed to be constantly on alert. And she got killed in a random car accident by some drunk bastard."

You could see him furrowing his eyebrows, as if he was trying to find an answer to his own question. I looked around the room, the walls were a pale gray, fog-like almost. How could anyone think clearly in here?

I got up and made to leave, for some reason I felt this necessary. Warren didn't, he grabbed my wrist and looked up to me. The both of us weren't very good with spoken word, but we had a way of communicating that is indescribable even on paper. You might say it was in the eyes, or maybe we had a spiritual connection. But I don't think that's the right way to describe it.

All I remember was I sat back down extremely close to him, and looped my arm through his own and entwined our fingers. I thought that if he wanted me to be near him that I should be as close as I permitted myself to be. Well, apparently I was A OK with being close to him.

I remember leaning my head over his shoulder slightly, he smelled nice, not a flower nice, but a natural nice. It was yet again one of those other things I just couldn't describe. His own head leaned toward mine and his forehead lightly touched my hairline.

Things felt right, for a lack of better term.

"How did you deal with the pain?" He asked.

I knew what he was talking about, the incident.

"Warren, those are two different types of pain. You grieve differently for certain things you lose. It may be with your heart, or your head. Your actions or thoughts might be affected."

"What about you?"

I smiled lightly and said "My actions, my thoughts."

"And me?" He asked.

I remember my eyes were fixed on our hands the whole entire time.

"I really don't know, but my guess is that it all changes. And it would be a miracle if things, anything, stayed the same. After something like that, a life, gone, how can it not affect everything you know."

He never cried, just so you know. His strength always took him a long way. And if you're thinking that if he cried he would be able to mend himself your wrong. He always felt differently than everybody else, how he would be able to mend himself would be different as well.

I felt warm air on my head and figured he chuckled or something.

"That's a pretty good guess."

"Well" I started "With a lifetime of inexperience you start to get pretty good at it."

Except not anymore. That part I added in my head. I don't think bitterness would have done anything to help the situation, if the roles were reversed it wouldn't have helped me. They have the saying 'brutally honest' for a reason.

For a while we just sat there, finding a little bit of solace in the fact that we were both hurting. Granted, we were hurting for different reasons, but we both found a little bit of common ground.

"Are you afraid?" He asked, a little while later.

I was surprised by the question.

"Everyday." I said honestly.

"Everywhere I go, it's like, all the innocence and sunshine that I used to see everywhere, in everyone. It's all gone. Suddenly, everyone has the possibility of hurting me."

I felt selfish when I told him this, he had just lost his mother. And here I was, talking about a problem of my own, a problem he had saved me from.

"I don't want to hurt you." He told me.

I was confused. "Warren you're not hurting me."

"But I did, at some point, many points."

"I don't understand why you won't accept the fact that that's all in the past. The only one who's hurting from it still is you. I've forgiven you Warren, I've forgiven you because I need you, in my life. Why can't you?"

We were both hurting so much and I couldn't help but want to alleviate that. But no matter what I did I was never able to do anything. He needed me and I needed him but I didn't want to solve ourproblems this way.

"I don't know why. Maybe, maybe because you were something good in my life and I feel responsible for the way you are now. You've lost hope, maybe that's my fault."

I gripped his hand tighter "It's not."

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't resist. I turned my head upward slightly and leaned close to him, kissing him. He must've been shocked but I couldn't tell otherwise. His right hand went from his lap, crawling slowly up my thigh and attaching onto my hip.

I want to tell you that there were fireworks everywhere and that tingles went down my spine and electrocuted my nerves from the tips of my hairs to each toe. But it really wasn't like that, it was serene, and perfect really. I noticed all those things that they don't tell you in all those romance novels you never read. The feel of his fingertips as they pressed slightly into my waist. The light smacking our lips made as we kissed, how I could feel his breathe on my cheek and my bottom lip as our kisses grew more frenzied. I savored the feel of his back muscles and his cotton shirt, how cool and soft it felt compared to our warm bodies.

I heard the silence in his room, and noticed that this silence felt right. Although, it didn't stay too silent. After a little while, our kisses grew intense and needier. He was like the taste of chocolate for the first time. Everything you had ever heard except experiencing it on your own is like this euphoric sensation. And you just can't get enough.

Our advances grew a little bolder, hands that had stayed planted in one spot, became a little more confident and ventured into unknown territories. His hand slipped under the back of my shirt and pushed slowly up my back. I shivered a little and sighed, tugging away from his lips.

We both looked so lost, so confused. Too much was happening in too little time. Was it just yesterday that the new school year was starting? Warren's mother killed? Myself assaulted?

In the back of my mind I wondered if I was prepared for this. A week after being assaulted, shouldn't I be scared, a wreck, somewhat reclusive?

I had to know.

I swallowed hard and kissed him again. It was somewhat slower, but a hard kiss nonetheless. It was more passionate than needy. He moved his kisses from my lips to my chin, to my neck and sucked slightly on the spot behind my ear. I exhaled slowly and kissed his jaw. Hesitantly, he slowly removed the black t-shirt I was wearing and looked to me.

I couldn't smile. I couldn't tell him that everything was going to be okay in the end because I didn't know. I never knew, I've never known. But the reassurance in his eyes was all I needed to be tricked. I wanted to be tricked, I wanted to be deceived. People always say things are going to be okay when its not. It's a mistake to say that, you just fall harder. You can't convince yourself that everything will be okay when it's not. So is that what Warren was? A mistake?

No. He was a beautiful mistake.

I wanted to say the things that were plaguing both of our minds. Warren's mother was dead. She was dead. I was scared, a wreck; broken. But he was there, and he made me forget. We created something new that I had never experienced before. I couldn't classify it, examine it, study it. I could only feel. I lifted his own shirt over his head.

I don't remember how long it was we just stared at each other. Both of us realizing what a mistake, a beautiful mistake; a disaster, this would all be. But neither of us could stop it. We didn't want to, we wanted to stumble upon this and we were afraid of what might happen if we didn't. The fear in our eyes was overwhelming, but we related to each other. We would be able to get rid of it, if only with each other, and if only for a little while.

But maybe that's enough.

I wanted to make that first move. Something that would signify that there was no turning back. I raised my arm and felt across his chest. Feather-light touches over a warm body. We both took deep and heavy breathes. I felt conscious of the difference in our skin colour. His warm, deep toned fire and my ethereal, porcelain white. We were the sun and moon.

With a hard passion he kissed me. It took my breath away. Hands, everywhere, touching, grasping, anything. The feel of his hair through my fingers, his light stubble on his face, the feel of his hands on my stomach. It hurt not to be touching him.

Clothes were gently removed despite our needy front. And I remember it all so clearly and so vividly. I was a virgin when I was with him. I knew it was supposed to be uncomfortable, but it wasn't. Maybe I was too caught up in it all, focusing too clearly on his every touch, taste, and smell. But I wanted to memorize it all, burn it into my senses and touch.

Every touch of a desk, my two fingers sliding across the smooth covering of it, would bring about memories of him, remind me, his hand as he slid it down my thigh. My head leaning back into the pillow facing up, eyes closed, as his lips trailed back and forth across my neck.

Every look from Will, Magenta, a stranger. The fire in our eyes as we tried to prolong the passion by holding on and rocking slower, deeper, more. The stare we held, the furrowing of his eyebrows.

Every bird chirping from a tree top or branch. His moans and slight gasps being breathed into my ear while his hands were buried deep in my hair. My own breaths coming short in his ear, struggling to breathe from the intensity of it all. Hands clenching onto his back.

Every fire, star, or colour. The deep burning in my center, not scalding at all. Just right and good. More, that's all.

He was all around me, in every sense, every colour. You couldn't tell where one of us began and one ended. We knew, but we would never tell. It was our secret, it kept us sane in a maddening way.

And afterwards, we lay side by side on our backs, breathing heavy and struggling to understand the depth of our actions. But we didn't care, not at the moment. I felt safe, and Warren had someone. When we both turned to look at each other I remember how intense it felt, the burn in our stare. His hand came up and caressed my cheek, flexing his thumb over the skin underneath my eye. He kissed my lightly, and I moved closer to him. Burrowing my neck into the place between his head and shoulder, he took my hand and placed it close to him. Over his heart, this may or may not have been symbolic, but we both fell asleep even before I had time to ponder it.

I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. Warren was still next to me. I leaned upwards slightly, making sure to keep the blanket at my collarbone, and watched him. He didn't look angry or sad or lost like he had yesterday. He looked calm and peaceful almost. His hair was away from his face.

I'm bad at holding myself back, so I couldn't help but lay my hand on his cheek, feeling the smooth skin there. I was surprised when his own hand came up and rested on top of mine, his eyes opened slowly until he was staring at me. I didn't know where we stood at that point, did he ever want to see me again? Was this a one night stand? Did he love me?

Like I loved him.

He pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position against his headboard. I joined him and gathered the blanket above my breasts.

I was scared to move, scared to say anything. And when he moved and put on his clothes and went into the bathroom I closed my eyes the entire time. Once he was in the bathroom I slid down until I was lying down again. I felt silent tears roll down my face until I brought the sheet to my mouth and bit down as hard as I could as silent sobs shook me. I dressed quickly and silently. Nothing, not a mouse, a dog, a human, could have heard me.

I left and walked home, it was only around a 15 minute walk. There was fog outside again, but the sky showed promise of sun. The fog felt cool against my scratchy eyes and cheeks. When I got home no one was there.

My mother had left a note saying she had gone into the city for a couple of hours on business. She would be home later that night.

I walked up the stairs quietly. My shoes had been abandoned at the door and my bare feet felt good on the extremely soft carpet. I stripped all of my clothes and stepped into the shower.

It felt good to be alone in the house because I could cry as hard as I needed to and no one would hear me. I leaned against the side of the shower and sobbed as much I felt I needed to while the steaming water hit my back and shoulders. I placed my head under the shower and wanted to drown, to die.

He didn't love me.

I placed my head in my hands and cried some more. I kept asking myself how I could have been so stupid. How on earth I had the notion that sleeping with my best friend a week after someone attempted rape on me, his mother died, would do me any good? I remembered how it was good at the time, how safe I had felt, the safest I had felt in a long time. But there's also a reason people don't substitute sex for everyday life.

Had it come down to sex now?

Was it making love last night? And once reality destroyed it, sex?

I didn't want to think about this, I didn't want to think about _him_, and how I would _have_ to see him tomorrow.

I just wanted to sleep.

I just wanted to forget.

I wanted to be dead, and I hated myself for thinking that because I had never thought that way before.

Why did things have to change?

Why did I love him?

I awoke the next morning with a headache. The blaring of my alarm didn't help any either.

I had changed into PJ's after my shower and basically flopped in front of the TV watching absolutely nothing, flipping around the channels. I didn't leave until I heard my mother come in the driveway. I walked up the stairs quietly and slipped into my bed. I didn't fall asleep for awhile. I couldn't, I kept thinking of _him_ and the night before. And I just wanted to kill myself for being so naïve.

I got out of bed and changed into new clothes, some jeans and a green long-sleeved t-shirt. I combed back my hair into a pony tail and grabbed my bag. I went downstairs into the kitchen and greeted my mother.

"How are you dear?" She asked.

"Fine" Was all I could say.

"Tired honey? You're usually chatty"

"Yeah" I ate my cereal in silence and walked out to the bus stop. I saw Will waiting and he waved. I smiled genuinely. I was thankful for my friendship with Will, I knew that our friendship would last. If my relationship with Will survived a broken romance, maybe my friendship with Warren would remain preserved. But, maybe I didn't want it to.

"Hey" He said, squinting his eyes a bit. The sun was pretty strong today.

"Hey to you" I sighed.

"What did you do with Warren after I left" He asked.

Shit, I had to think of something quick for this. What to say, what to say. I lost my virginity, no, no that's not good. We made love to fill our lost souls, still not good enough, he broke my hear and feel like a walking basket-case, don't think that would be good.

"I did nothing, I tried to talk to him but the door was locked."

"Oh." He looked a little down.

"Well, we'll try talking to him today." Will said.

"Uh-huh." I tried _not_ to have a nervous break down as we waited for the bus.

"Hey Layla, are you sure you're okay?" He looked skeptical of me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure." I voiced, looking around, where was that damn bus?

"OK" Will shrugged and stepped onto the bus. I followed suit and sat next to some kid I didn't know, placing my head back and counting down the hours until the school day would be over.

When Will and I stepped off the bus I immediately saw him. Sitting on the ledge, looking as if he was waiting for somebody. He was anxious, a first I had ever seen for him.

"Come on" Will said. Nodding his head toward Warren.

I swallowed hard and followed him. We both stopped in front of him.

"Hey Warren, how was your weekend." Will asked. I thought this was kind of a stupid question, since Will didn't know about our escapade, how would he think the weekend went after his mother's funeral? Boys….

"It was.." He stare went from Will to me "fine."

I looked off to the side and rolled my eyes.

Zach, Ethan, and Magenta soon came up to Will and dragged him off telling him about something they did over the weekend. Because that's just my shitty luck. So of course I was alone with Warren.

He kept looking at me while I looked away. I decided I had enough of that and walked off.

"Layla, wait." He grabbed his bad and got off the ledge. I stopped in my tracks but did not face him.

"About that night.."

"Warren, I get it alright?" I turned around "I don't want to talk about this. I get it, we were both emotionally unstable and you think it's a mistake."

He came up close to me and I took a step back.

"Do you?"

"That doesn't matter." I turned to leave, but his arm wrapped quickly around my waist.

"It matters."

"_You're_ the one who left" I whispered in an angry tone. I couldn't help but lace in a touch of hurt, I didn't mean to, it appeared me weaker.

I left before he could say anything. Ironic.

That night I was doing homework in the den when I heard the doorbell.

I answered the door and took a step back once I realized who it was.

"We need to talk." Warren said.

"Honey who is it?" Came my mothers distant voice from the kitchen.

"It's" I faltered. "It's Magenta, mom, we'll be up in my room."

I grabbed his arm and led him up the stairs into my room. I locked it behind me.

We stood a little ways apart. He swallowed hard and looked somewhat confused.

"There's a lot" he started "That was left unsaid. We didn't make any clarification as to what we were and I just couldn't presume."

"Presume what Warren?" I asked, I raised my eyebrows up briefly and looked away from him "Do I appear the kind of person that would just jump into bed with any male that walked past? Is that what you think I would do?" I felt hurt. He started to say something but I interrupted "I was a virgin Warren! Do you think I would've been with you unless" I tried again "Unless I loved you?" I looked down as the tears fell down once more.

I looked up again to him. "Did you have intentions of using me? Is that what you wanted to do?"

"How can you ask that?" He growled somewhat, angry.

"How can you ask _me_ that?"

"What am I to you Warren?" I asked, walking closer and closer to him. "What am_ I_ to _you_?" I raised my voice slightly.

"What?" I said exasperatedly, looking directly up at him. My face bright with tears.

You could tell he was struggling an internal battle with himself. "If you don't love me, I need to know. I _have_ to know" My voice was weak and I was all but sobbing lightly "I need to know, I can't spend the rest of my life wondering Warren. It'll kill me. It _is_ killing me."

"I need to know if my attempts were all in vain, for nothing. Am I nothing to you?" I placed my hands on his chest. I was silently begging an answer.

"Everything." He said quietly. I looked up, praying that what I heard was real.

"You are everything to me." He said. Bringing his two hands to surround my face, wiping away my tears.

"But do you know how much that scares me? How much it will hurt to lose someone again. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't lose you, I love you. I just-" I cut him off with my lips, it was all I needed to hear. All I wanted to hear. He returned my kiss with a hard passion that made me cling harder to him.

"You won't" I breathed after we parted "You won't lose me, Warren."

"I hurt you" He said. "I hurt you when I promised I wouldn't."

"You'll make up for it."

I smiled and he smiled back, and I kissed him before he could say anything else. The kisses were sweet and even more sweeter now that I didn't have to question his motives.

We moved slowly to the bed and I stopped thinking. I stopped thinking about everything and everyone and simply allowed myself to feel at the same level as Warren.

Being with Warren so far had cost me my hope. I won't lie. But it brought me to him, it brought me to someone I could be with and feel like I was discovering a new side to myself. Maybe to make up for the one I lost.

Ultimately it ended up being that Warren became half of me as I discovered who he was. And maybe how it all ended up was a disaster, we stumbled from thorn bush to thorn bush until our hands were bleeding from the fall. But we both made it back up, cleaned up our bruises and dusted off our pants,and what we were able to produce from it was anything but a disaster.

He was a beautiful mistake, and I was his beautiful disaster.

Maybe that's the way it should have been the whole time.

A/N: Yay, I'm done. I'm not too sure I like this but I DO like the feeling of completing something. Okay, so tell me what you think but please try and be gentle. I don't really like flames, more like constructive criticism.


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